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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30039045">Nightmares</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/imbadatlove/pseuds/imbadatlove'>imbadatlove</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>One and the Same [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Little Nightmares (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Dialogue Heavy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:13:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,767</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30039045</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/imbadatlove/pseuds/imbadatlove</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>--</p><p>There are certain sounds that bother The Thin Man when he least expects it.</p><p>Sometimes it's the sound of complete silence. A silence that engulfs all air in a room, suffocating and lonely, a hollow whistle in his ears. It is reminiscent of his time in the tower, where the only sound to break the silence was that of his laboured breaths; the occasional tap of a bored foot, nails scratching against the wooden chair. Sometimes it's the sound of static. He can bear its ear-piercing screech, its blaring white noise, but he can't bear what it represents. The loss of innocence and youth. Sometimes it's the sound of a door shutting. The echo of locks snapping closed. </p><p>Then there are sounds that occur so rarely, so unexpectedly, that they evoke emotions buried so deep inside he isn't even aware they ever existed.</p><p>Mono's scream in the middle of the night is one of these sounds.</p><p>--</p><p>Alternatively: Mono and Six suffer from nightmares of their would-have-been futures. The Thin Man and The Lady try to help, but it's hard to be someone's rock when your memories are the sole reason as to why they're hurting.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mono &amp; The Thin Man (Little Nightmares), The Lady &amp; Six (Little Nightmares), The Lady &amp; The Thin Man (Little Nightmares)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>One and the Same [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2177634</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>252</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Nightmares</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The idea behind this fic goes to the wonderful: SumiSprite! All the credit and love to them! &lt;3</p><p>I had to work on this for a solid few days (and it's not even that long pfft). I don't know why writing angst takes me forever... Sorry for the wait!</p><p>(also i really really did want to include RK in this fic, but sadly i had to cut his section out. i explain in the end notes as to why, i hope this is still enjoyable regardless :&lt; )</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There are certain sounds that bother The Thin Man when he least expects it.</p><p>Sometimes it's the sound of complete silence. A silence that engulfs all air in a room, suffocating and lonely, a hollow whistle in his ears. It is reminiscent of his time in the tower, where the only sound to break the silence was that of his laboured breaths; the occasional tap of a bored foot, nails scratching against the wooden chair. Sometimes it's the sound of static. He can bear its ear-piercing screech, its blaring white noise, but he can't bear what it represents. The loss of innocence and youth. Sometimes it's the sound of a door shutting. The echo of locks snapping closed.</p><p>Then there are sounds that occur so rarely, so unexpectedly, that they evoke emotions buried so deep inside he isn't even aware they ever existed.</p><p>Mono's scream in the middle of the night is one of these sounds.</p><p>The sheer desperation and agony clinging to the wail is frightening. The shrill echo it leaves jars him -- so much so, that the moment it reaches The Thin Man's ears, he freezes entirely. The glass he's holding above the sink falls with a clatter and he can't hear it shatter over the shriek resounding through the household. It grows in vehemence and that's all the incentive The Thin Man needs to snap out of his shocked stupor. In seconds, he's warping upstairs and swinging Mono's bedroom door open.</p><p>Mono is cocooned in the bedsheets, arms and legs thrashing wildly, still howling in terror. The Thin Man teleports to his bedside, kneeling next to the frame and pulling the sheets away from Mono's face. Mono cowers backwards, shrinking against the wall and his scream is suddenly directed at the obscured figure in front of him.</p><p><strong>"Mono, stop! It's me!" </strong>The Thin Man says, his frantic static overpowering Mono's cries. Mono stiffens, his scream abruptly dying in his throat. The Thin Man rises from his kneeled position to turn the light on and once he's visible, Mono's tense form relaxes. He repeats softly: <strong>"It's me." </strong></p><p>The Thin Man approaches again, palms raised in front of him in a pacifying gesture. He crouches down next to the bed, opening his arms and Mono crawls into the embrace, clinging to his suit desperately. The Thin Man wraps his arms around him, feeling Mono's body slump and unwind against his chest. His scream has now dissolved into quiet sniffles and choked hiccups, but the haunting screech will forever linger in the back of The Thin Man's mind like a plague.</p><p>Mono starts to tremble, and not a moment later he's weeping into The Thin Man's suit. The Thin Man stands up and quietly shushes him, pacing the room in hopes that the light motion will calm Mono's distress. He continues to do this even as Mono's cries increase in volume, more pained. It's disconcerting. The Thin Man is aware of Mono's sleeping problems -- his usual nightly routine of experiencing nightmares so vivid they risk him becoming an insomniac -- but Mono has never been ripped from these nightmares screaming bloody murder, or reduced to a sobbing wreck in The Thin Man's arms. The Thin Man isn't wholly sure he wants to know what Mono dreamt about, if it's caused this reaction. But it is this extreme and unusual reaction that tells him this isn't any typical nightmare, and it demands answers and consolation.</p><p>A few minutes later, Mono has quietened from the gradual sway of their bodies and the warm embrace he's receiving. The Thin Man's voice is hushed and lax, as if he's afraid Mono might crack like a fragile porcelain doll if he's too loud, when he asks: <strong>"What was it about?" </strong></p><p>Mono chokes out something incomprehensible. </p><p>The Thin Man coaxes, <strong>"You need to tell me what it was about, Mono. If it has you this distraught, I need to know." </strong></p><p>A pause lingers between them. </p><p>Then, the tiniest of whispers masked under hoarse exhalations: "...I killed you." </p><p>The Thin Man's breath hitches. "I killed you," Mono echoes, slightly muffled by the suit fabric, "You...you faded right in front of me..." His voice wobbles, cries overcoming him, "It was so real, I thought you were...gone." </p><p><strong>"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." </strong>Mono clutches him tighter. Another pause.</p><p>"We... were in a street. Outside The Signal Tower." The Thin Man tenses, Mono continues as if he hasn't noticed, "I was in pain, I don't know why, or how, and then you appeared in front of me. I... I should've ran to you, I should've gone to you for help, but I didn't. You walked towards me and I put my hand out." He looks at said hand like he's seeing something new, something offending and unfamiliar, "All you did was reach out to me...And I killed you."</p><p>The Thin Man's chest constricts and tightens and it is suddenly hard to breathe, like there's a mountain of bricks sitting atop his chest and crushing his ribcage. His heart palpitates quicker, climbing up to his throat and threatening to choke him. He's sure Mono's noticed his reaction, because there are two bleary eyes gazing up at him now, but words fail him. He doesn't offer comfort, nor reassurance that he is alright. He's not. He's not alright, and not for the reasons Mono probably thinks. It's not the graphic nature of the dream, of being killed by Mono.</p><p>It's the realisation that Mono's nightmare is not just a nightmare. </p><p>It's his memory. </p><p>The Thin Man almost wants to stand here and join Mono in crying, maybe scream till his own throat is raw. How foolish of him to think that the two of them could have a second chance, a better future, devoid of time paradoxes and the Eye's corrupt influence. That heinous time loop--all of the events it repeated thousands of times over. It is the culprit of Mono's pain, it is why he's awoken in the dead of the night, screaming like he's being murdered. The Thin Man is ultimately the culprit, too. It's his memories of past cycles, past iterations of himself, that are hurting Mono. He hates it for causing such agony. He wishes the Eye was a real being, so he could wring its neck a thousand times over. He wishes The Signal Tower would crumple like a stack of flimsy playing cards. He wishes neither of them ever existed.</p><p><strong>"That's never going to happen, Mono." </strong>He struggles out then, voice tight, and the irony of it is almost laughable, in a sick and twisted sense, <strong>"It was just a dream. I'm right here." </strong>He emphasises again, feeling a new batch of tears dampen his suit. </p><p>Mono isn't looking at him when he continues, "Then I was with someone..." He pauses, sniffling, and when his voice returns it's thick and strained, "We were running, and then I was falling, and all I remember is that person watching me fall...Like they didn't care." </p><p>The Thin Man's body glitches, a stuttering flicker between realities. The air shrinks, smothering and taut and energised and Mono quivers against him. His poignant hatred towards the time loop, the Eye, the entire <em>universe </em>even, swells within. Of course, it had to be that memory, didn't it? The memory that lurks within his own dreams, an inescapable parasite, a memory that comes to the forefront of his mind whenever he stares blankly ahead for too long. The memory of his rebirth as The Thin Man, one he's tried so hard to repress, and is yet to have any luck in doing so. But, he can still protect Mono from that memory; he doesn't need to know what happened. The Thin Man takes a deep breath and with it the tension dwelling in the air falls, returning to its quiet peace. </p><p><strong>"That sounds horrible," </strong>The Thin Man whispers, <em>because it was, </em><strong>"But it was just a dream. That's never going to happen to you, I promise." </strong></p><p>There's a stiff nod against him. There are no words after. Mono remains curled up and feeble, the only sound he makes being the occasional hiccup or stifled gasp, and The Thin Man continues to pace at a languid speed, trying to keep himself from spiralling. It's better not to think at all; to believe his own words. It was just a dream, he repeats over and over in his head, clinging to the lie like a lifeline.</p><p>Minutes pass and Mono has resided into near silence, save for his shallow breaths, still and limp in his arms. The Thin Man peers down at him; his eyelids are droopy and lips slightly parted, his once tight grip on the suit lapels now slack. As gently as possible, The Thin Man pulls away from Mono with the intention of putting him back to bed, when Mono springs back to life, eyes flying open and nails digging into the suit fabric in protest. The Thin Man sighs, readjusting his hold.</p><p><strong>"You need to sleep, Mono," </strong>The Thin Man murmurs. Mono responds with a frantic shake of his head. It's understandable, The Thin Man himself probably wouldn't be able to sleep after experiencing a nightmare like that, but the last thing either of them need is to dwell on it. Therefore, The Thin Man opts for a different approach. He grabs the nearest blanket and drapes it over Mono, then takes a seat on the bed and props himself up against Mono's small pillow. As expected, Mono rests against his chest, The Thin Man's steady heartbeat lulling him into a sleepy haze. He isn't letting his eyes close however, and whenever he catches himself drifting off, he jolts. It's hard for The Thin Man to watch.</p><p><strong>"Close your eyes," </strong>The Thin Man whispers, rubbing small circles on his back. Mono stares at him with those same fear stricken eyes, <strong>"I'm not going anywhere."</strong></p><p>Mono remains rigid. Then he caves, finally allowing himself to doze in the safety of The Thin Man's arms. And The Thin Man stays true to his word, staying with him, even after Mono's light snores fill the room.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>There are certain sounds that bother The Lady when she least expects it.</p><p>Sometimes it's the sound of something shattering. A lonely mirror cracking under her image, shards sprawling across the floor. Sometimes it's the sound of the wind. Its empty whimper as it drifts through the polluted air, its shallow vibrations as it whips around an object. It is reminiscent of the worst mistake she has ever made, and she often wonders how cold the wind must've felt around him when he fell through the bottomless abyss. Sometimes it's the sound of her stomach rumbling. She can bear its debilitating pain, its impulsive nature, but she can't bear what it represents. The loss of innocence and compassion. Sometimes it's the sound of an intimate tune from a broken music box. </p><p>Then there are sounds that occur so rarely, so unexpectedly, that they evoke emotions buried so deep inside she isn't even aware they ever existed.</p><p>Six's near animalistic cry in the middle of the night is one of these sounds.</p><p>It's a coarse and wounded sound, resembling the injured howl of entrapped prey. The power behind such a voice has fragments falling from the already cracked mirror The Lady is staring into, and the shock of it has the brush she's holding falling to the floorboards below. Black mist seeps in from the shadows, surrounding and enveloping her being into a dark sheet. When it unravels from around her, she's standing in Six's bedroom, where Six is writhing about the bed sheets, whimpering.</p><p>Her back is towards The Lady, and without thinking, she reaches out worriedly to Six. As soon as the slightest touch of her bare fingertips registers, Six flings herself around, crawling backwards and holding a limp arm to her chest that is covered with flecks of red--<em>red?</em> The Lady glares at the bed sheets and is horrified to see a small pool of blood staining where Six had been previously sleeping. Her apprehension immediately dissolves into fear and concern, and she illuminates the room with a flick of her hand. Six shields herself from the light with her arm, and The Lady can clearly see the long scratches extending along her forearm. </p><p>"Oh my--Six, give me your arm." The Lady commands frightfully. She approaches the now huddled and shivering Six, who only shouts at her in protest. The Lady stops in her advance, frowning incredulously, "I'm not going to hurt you." </p><p>The soft note her voice switches to makes Six glance up to meet her masked eyes, hesitant. Then she gazes at her arm with alarm, painfully unaware of what she'd done to herself, then to The Lady, back to the arm. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes and her bottom lip wobbles. The Lady comes and scoops her up into the soft embrace of her warm kimono, relieved when she doesn't flinch or reject her care this time. </p><p>The Lady glides out of the bedroom and towards their living room. She attempts to place Six down on one of their lush purple sofas, but Six grips at her tighter. "I need to get a first aid kit, Six. I won't be long," She tries to reassure, to no success. Six goes to press her face into the crook of The Lady's neck, seeking solace, when she stops, tenses-mid movement. She stares at the flesh on her neck in horror. Then she's sobbing, uncontrollable and breathless, into her shoulder. The Lady doesn't try to put her down again. Instead, the black mist encircles the two of them, and Six is vaguely aware of The Lady traversing a new room, reaching up to grab something. </p><p>As quick as they left, they're back in the living room and The Lady takes a seat on the sofa. She whispers, "I need to see your arm, Six." Six stiffens, unrelenting. The Lady strokes her hair, "I'm just going to clean and bandage it."</p><p>With great reluctance, Six separates from The Lady, curling up against one of the plush cushions. She rolls her sleeve up fully and holds it out to The Lady, who pulls it closer to examine. There are three thin lines carving down her forearm, their open surface now crusted over with dried blood. The scratches are inconsistent in size and end at odd angles, meaning it wasn't Six's intention to hurt herself. This is a relief for The Lady, as she dabs an antiseptic wipe over the scratches, mindful of the badly suppressed hiss Six gives in response. She glances up to meet Six's a thousand mile stare.</p><p>"How did you scratch yourself?" The Lady asks softly, pausing in her work to watch her.</p><p>Six swallows, eyes refocusing. "Nightmare." She mumbles.</p><p>The Lady squints. Six suffers from nightmares, as they all do, she thinks sharply, but they've never provoked such an extreme reaction before -- being distressing enough to the point where Six accidently claws herself in her sleep. The Lady can only imagine what the nature of the dream was, if it had Six struggling and scratching at herself in a panic. She grabs a bandage from the first aid kit and begins wrapping it around Six's forearm, mulling over thoughts. It's worrying, dangerously so.</p><p>She neglects her own feelings in favour of asking: "What was it about?"</p><p>The Lady can see Six's jaw clenching, teeth grinding together as she contemplates and tries to form words. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, like a fish gasping for air, before she settles on making a choked sound in the back of her throat, blinking back tears. Her response is forced, emotional: "Bad." </p><p>The Lady finishes tying off the bandage, then opens up her arms. Six eyes her, hugging her knees to her chest. The Lady shuffles closer, and Six hides her face in her knees, overcome with tremors. With a sad hum, The Lady reaches out to Six, and she <em>flinches. </em></p><p>The Lady pulls her hand back like she's been burned. </p><p>"I hurt people," Six mumbles suddenly, words suppressed by her pyjamas. </p><p>"...What?" The Lady utters, upset<em>. </em></p><p>"In my nightmare," She clarifies, swallowing, "I hurt people." </p><p>"Who did you hurt?" </p><p>Six meets her worried and perplexed gaze, "I dropped someone."</p><p>The Lady wrings her hands in her lap anxiously, failing to comment. Six lowers her knees back down, presses her sleeve to her eyes, "And I...ate you."</p><p>The Lady sits, frozen. She squeezes her hands so tight the flesh whitens to the same colour as her mask, and her fingernails leave small indents in her palms. Her thoughts race a mile a minute, repeating the same realisation over and over: those are her memories. Those are the atrocities <em>she </em>committed as a child, god knows how many times. The guilt that keeps her up at night, that eats her from the inside out, is now on Six's conscience, and that terrifies her. The Lady herself can hardly cope with the remorse as a fully fledged adult, she doesn't want to think about how it will completely and utterly, without a shadow of a doubt, <em>obliterate </em>Six's mentality. It will drive her to madness, a state of overwhelming depression, like it did to her. Those memories are deplorable, inexcusable even, and The Lady is damned if she doesn't shield this Six, this pure and <em>innocent</em> Six, from them. </p><p>Six blubbers into her sleeves, "Does that make me a monster?"</p><p>The Lady shakes her head quickly, "No, Six, it doesn't. It was just a dream, a scary and twisted dream. You didn't hurt anyone." She lifts her hand cautiously, towards Six again, stopping the movement mid-air. Six is the one to close the distance between them now, crawling and curling up on The Lady's lap. She relaxes under the feel of The Lady's soft and spindly fingers combing through her dark hair.  </p><p>"But if I imagined it, then I'm a monster." </p><p>"You're not a monster," The Lady emphasises strongly. <em>I am -- </em>she shuts down that thought process as rapidly as it had came alive, "Sometimes we can't control our dreams." <em>But we can control our actions, and oh sweetheart, how I have committed bad actions.</em></p><p>Six fades into the quiet, and The Lady only hopes she isn't internally torturing or at war with herself. But, The Lady does not push the subject any further. She sits, coiling Six's silky strands around her nimble fingers, rubbing in circular motions the small of her back, waiting to see if Six will discuss any further. She doesn't. That gives The Lady far too much time to think, the opportunity for poorly stitched wounds to come undone. Something is boiling inside her at the mere thought of her memories being depicted as "dreams" because they are anything but, and telling Six that is somehow more agonising than admitting to what she would have done. </p><p>It's agonising because it sounds like she's justifying or brushing off what she really did.</p><p>The Lady has hurt people -- a lot of people. She continues to hurt people, and she will always hurt people. Part of her had come to terms with that fact long ago, especially when it concerned the Guests and other gluttonous and vile creatures alike. It is how she thrives in this disgusting world. But the other half of her could never accept, nor atone for, what she had done to the innocent, to those she cared about. What she did to Mono. They are memories that will never disappear, a painful reminder of what she's capable of and what she views herself as undeserving of. Kindness from the one she doomed all those years ago, and continued to doom, is at the top of that list.</p><p>"I want to go back to bed," Six snivels, sitting up. She reaches up and wraps her arms around The Lady's neck, her movements aversive as they near that spot of flesh on her neck. The Lady obliges, grateful for Six's sleepiness, as sitting there in the quiet was starting to dig her down a pit of self-loathing. She carries her back to her bedroom and tucks her into her bed. The Lady makes sure she's safe and comfortable before approaching the door. As she's about to leave Six in peace, a shy whisper garners her attention.</p><p>"Stay."</p><p>And so The Lady does. She perches by her bedside, gently moving the hair away from Six's eyes, caressing her cheek. She doesn't question nor complain when Six grabs that hand and holds it close, practically sleeping on top of it. </p><p>Six falls back into a serene slumber a few minutes later, and The Lady retracts her arm. Her breathing suddenly elevates, that strong front she'd put on for Six crumbling at the seams now she is able to let it all out. Her heart pounds so loud she's surprised her ears aren't bleeding, and she promptly rushes out the bedroom, praying Six isn't disturbed from her sleep.</p><p>She's spiralling, she needs someone to talk to. A presence to calm her. A distraction. <em>Anything.</em></p><p>The Lady enters her bedroom and grabs the telephone. She dials a familiar number. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It's been a little over an hour when the telephone rings down the hall, and The Thin Man rubs at the corners of his eyes with his thumb and index finger tiredly. Part of him wants to ignore the incessant ringing and let it go to voice mail, but the question of who would call at such an absurd time makes him curious. Mono had fallen asleep a while ago, and hasn't shown any signs of disturbance since, so The Thin Man assumes he'll be able to leave without troubling him. As quietly and carefully as possible, he straightens up and manoeuvres himself forward, coming to a stand and then placing Mono back into his bed. He's just finished pulling the sheets over him when Mono whines, hands searching for something -- probably The Thin Man. Instead, The Thin Man grabs a teddy bear and places it next to him, internally grateful when Mono clutches it and resumes his light snoring. </p><p>He enters his study and collapses into his chair unceremoniously. He reaches for the handset and presses it to his ear, uttering a weary: <strong>"Who is this?"</strong></p><p>"I-it's me," A quivering voice comes through the speaker.</p><p>The Thin Man straightens up abruptly, leaning closer to the telephone as if it will allow him to be closer to the person on the other end, <strong>"Six?" </strong></p><p>"I'm sorry for calling at such a late time -- I just needed to speak to someone." </p><p>Hearing the usual eccentric and sardonic Lady reduced to a hollow, sombre whisper is unsettling. <strong>"I'm glad you called. Is everything alright?"</strong></p><p>The Lady is silent for a while. The only sign that she's still present is the tapping of fidgety fingernails against the handset like she's suffering from withdrawal.</p><p>"You know I'm sorry, don't you?" She whispers then, "For everything, for--"</p><p>
  <strong>"I know." </strong>
</p><p>A breathy exhale, of respite or melancholy, The Thin Man isn't sure. </p><p>
  <strong>"...Is that why you called?" </strong>
</p><p>"Six had a nightmare tonight, but it was different than any other one she'd ever had." The Lady professes morosely. The Thin Man blinks long and hard as the epiphany hits him. </p><p>
  <strong>"She dreamt of your past." </strong>
</p><p>The Lady stutters, "Y-yes, how did you know--"</p><p><strong>"Because Mono dreamt of mine." </strong>He says with a forlorn sigh. </p><p>"In the same night?" The Lady trails off, confused. Then her voice returns, vigilant and protective, "That couldn't be the Eye's doing, could it?"  </p><p>The Thin Man sneers at the mention of that nefarious eldritch being, <strong>"It can't be. The Signal Tower is out of commission and the Maw is free of its influence, so it shouldn't be able to affect Mono or Six. Best case scenario is that this is just a blip in the timeline's attempt to return to a normal pacing after the loop was broken." </strong>He taps a finger on his desk, craving a cigarette, <strong>"But that's of hardly any comfort. They shouldn't be plagued with our memories." </strong></p><p>"If you don't mind me asking...What did Mono dream about?" </p><p><em>Definitely</em> going to need a cigarette for this conversation, The Thin Man thinks bitterly. He picks up the telephone and balances the handset between his ear and shoulder, warping to the kitchen and retrieving the trusty packet. He returns to his study and resumes his prior position, only this time he's fumbling with a lighter and cigarette, jittery. The Lady waits on the other end, and she frowns when she hears the unsteady puff of smoke leave his lips.</p><p><strong>"He experienced arguably my worst memories." </strong>The Thin Man mutters, voice conflicting with twinges of sadness and indignation alike, <strong>"He dreamt he killed me, then was dropped into The Signal Tower." </strong></p><p>"Did he see who dropped him?" </p><p>
  <strong>"No, and I don't ever intend to tell him who did. Or that it was anything more than a dream." </strong>
</p><p>"Six dreamt that she dropped somebody." The Lady refuses to linger on how The Thin Man hastily inhales a drag from his cigarette, "Then she consumed me. She asked me if she was a monster...I told her she wasn't and that it wasn't real but, somehow, <em>lying </em>about it hurt even more."</p><p>
  <strong>"You know what would happen if we told them. It would break them." </strong>
</p><p>The Lady shakes her head mirthlessly, voice cracking, "Because it broke you." </p><p>The Thin Man doesn't respond, but she knows she's right. </p><p>"I felt like I was denying what I'd done." She admits almost silently, "Like I wasn't taking responsibility for the pain I'd caused -- <em>would've </em>caused. I've done so many bad things, Mono. Out of survival -- <em>greed."</em> The Lady traces the delicate edges of her porcelain mask, the mask that hides the true ugliness lurking deep within, "There is not a day that goes by where I am not haunted by them, and the last thing I want is for Six to be tormented by them too."</p><p>
  <strong>"She won't be. You can protect her from that."</strong>
</p><p>"What if the nightmares get worse? If they occur more frequently?"</p><p>The Thin Man takes longer to reply to the question, <strong>"We'll cross that bridge if we get to it."</strong></p><p>A beat passes between them. "How is Mono coping?" </p><p><strong>"As of right now, he's sleeping, but he was severely distressed earlier. Understandably so." </strong>He smokes, <strong>"What about Six?"</strong></p><p>"Sleeping also. She accidently hurt herself whilst she was asleep, but she'll be fine." The Lady says, "And you? How are you doing?"</p><p>The Lady hears the sizzle of the cigarette as it is plunged into the ashtray with excessive force. She frowns, concerned, "Please, Mono. Answer me."</p><p>His tone crackles, distorted with static, when he eventually replies: <strong>"Peachy."</strong></p><p>The Lady knows nothing she says will improve the way he's feeling, and she's sure he knows this too, because he's not pressing the issue, or accusing, or pouring his heart out to her. They both know the anguish and struggle the betrayal brought, and despite being friends now, that conflict will always loom between them. It's never going to be redeemable -- or forgivable, in The Lady's opinion, even though The Thin Man has it in his heart to give her a second chance. Realising that Mono could potentially be traumatised by that memory too, or even fall victim to it himself if the Eye were to rise to power again, is going to be a hard burden to bear, and she only hopes he doesn't spiral from the additional stress.</p><p>"Are you at least getting enough sleep? Taking care of yourself?"</p><p>
  <strong>"I don't sleep."</strong>
</p><p>The Lady knows why. "Well, you need to, or else I'll come and tuck you in every night to make sure."</p><p>That gets her a small chuckle, <strong>"How ever will I cope." </strong></p><p>She smiles lightly, then glances at the clock on the wall, "That's what I want you to do right now; go and get some rest." </p><p><strong>"I can't." </strong>Before she can protest, he rectifies, <strong>"I'm staying up in case Mono needs me." </strong></p><p>The Lady protests anyway, "Because you don't stay up <em>every </em>night, right?" She can sense the inevitable eye roll he gives, "I mean it. Stop neglecting yourself." </p><p>
  <strong>"I don't neglect myself." </strong>
</p><p><em>"Mono." </em>She says firmly.</p><p><strong>"Fine." </strong>He concedes with a sigh. She hears him stand up from the chair, and she celebrates this small victory, <strong>"And, Six?"</strong></p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>
  <strong>"I forgive you." </strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>-not me shoving loads of hugs and cuddles in here because the prompt is just so sad and good</p><p>-not thin dad and lady mom realising they actually need comfort themselves, who'da thunk it</p><p>-both of them need therapy, where's the doctor at</p><p>-also i still suck at titles so this is exactly what it says on the tin </p><p>-this took way longer than the word count shows i swear</p><p>-as always, you know the drill. i'm posting at 1am again, ignore any funky errors if you're reading as soon as it's been posted, my sleep deprived ass will fix them tomorrow--or rather, in like 4 hours. </p><p>----</p><p>so anyway. why i had to cut rk's section out. </p><p>to put it bluntly, i couldn't incorporate his own nightmare without fucking up the flow and structure of the fic. the end product ended up being: mono's nightmare / six's nightmare / thin man and lady reconcile </p><p>but if i included rk, it would be: mono's nightmare / rk's nightmare / six's nightmare / thin man and lady reconcile</p><p>that might not look that bad there, but trust me, it became very convoluted and hard to follow FAST. all the drafts i did of it didn't end very well. i already had the main plot line down and didn't want to change it all just so i could fit his part in there. not to mention, by the time i came to finishing mono's nightmare segment, it was all done in present tense. if i did it all in past tense, sure, maybe i could've made it work?? but i really didn't want to alter the writing i'd already done and because the nightmares were the sole premise of the fic, using past would possibly alter the plot because then i'd have to explain the aftermath of them, etc. </p><p>i did look over it all when it was finished, and see if i could put rk anywhere in there that would fit with the flow of the story, but i couldn't, especially since the writing structure and description is almost mirrored for both thin man and mono and lady and six. their two parts go really well together and i didn't want to slap rk's segment in the middle, call it a day, and effectively ruin it. </p><p>i do feel sad i couldn't put him in there, because rk is my boy and deserves all the cuddles too, and i'm so sorry if people are upset that i couldn't, but i hope you can at least understand why i wasn't able to. ❤</p><p>--</p><p>also, regarding requests, please refrain from giving me any more here! i have a few i need to get through first, then i'll request for some more ^^ i don't want to get overwhelmed and burnt out by them!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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